


The Passion of Trump

by Maolin



Category: Christian Bible
Genre: Comedy, Donald Trump X Jesus Christ, Funny, Gay, God - Freeform, Jesus Christ X Donald Trump - Freeform, M/M, President, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maolin/pseuds/Maolin
Summary: Donald Trump is going about his usual Trumpy business until an unexpectedly sexy visitor appears out of nowhere in his office





	The Passion of Trump

It was nearing the end of another predictable day in Washington DC. Donald Trump, 45th president to the united states and winner of the 2003 Hotwheels championships, pushed his comfy leather chair back from the desk and stretched his arms out. It had been a busy day; in the morning he played his presidential golf to prepare himself for the tough day ahead, sipped his rich presidential coffee, spat his rich presidential coffee onto the carpet for his cleaner to lick up in the way all Mexican immigrants scrounge from good American mouths. He tried to read some strange markings on new classified documents, and later cracked the code when tipped off to revise the alphabet, thus personally preventing a terrorist attack against the best country in the world. After all that he went out for golf again before making some important calls to his good business friends from China and Mexico and, as feared, they once again reported to him how they were “beating” him and had it “so easy, I mean so easy”. Trump sighed and reminded himself to mention this in his next speech at least five times.

“It’s hard to be a President,” he muttered sadly to himself before glancing up to notice the cleaner enter the room and frown at the coffee stain on the floor.

“It’s so hard to be a President,” Trump repeated, only louder this time so that someone was bound to hear. “Maria, God you’re so lucky. You know what? Sometimes I wish I could be a Mexican cleaner. Some of the best people I know are Mexican cleaners. I have so many on my staff, I love employing them, love it.”

“Sir, I am from Brazil,” the woman corrected in a strong accent, before crouching down to the stain with a cloth. “But, yes, you are very right.”

“Ah, Brazil, Mexico, Poland, all the same sort of thing. Why have we gotta focus on labels, Marie?” Donald asked casually, leaning back against the side of his desk. “What does ‘president’ even mean? Huh?”

“Sir, pardon, but mi nombre is Laticia,” the woman said. “And I think ‘president’ means a very big responsibility. You should be very proud.”

“Oh I suppose so, Lettuce,” he sighed. “I just wish I could have a break from all this stuff and just go play golf sometimes, ya know? Like, when did I last have some time for myself? It’s all work, work, work round here, I’ve hardly had a chance to sit and think.”

Before long, the Mexican girl had done her best with the stain and had managed to avoid most of Trump’s whines for attention, as per usual. She left the room and said that she would go alert the maid to make him some more coffee.   
Trump slumped back down into his office chair and rubbed his brow tiresomely. As he began to sit up straight, he suddenly became aware of a strange vibration in the air which tickled his pee-pee.  
Donald smirked and brought his hand down to his lap in a lazy attempt to hide his raging boner. Damn it, why did this happen every time he sat behind the presidential desk? As he pondered this for a second, a bright light sporadically filled the entire room, blinding him.

“Holy fucking shit!” he grunted as he tried to cover his eyes in time, but his hands weren’t quite big enough.

He remained in a foetal position for quite some time, unsure of when it would be safe to peer about the room again. It wasn’t until he felt a warm normal-sized hand on his shoulder and the soft words of a gentle man saying “open your eyes Mr Trump”, that he dared to glance up.

“J-Jesus Christ…!”

“Yes,” the man answered. “It is I, Jesus. I have come to speak with you, child.”

The man standing over him had luscious black curls which tumbled down his cheeks to form a dense beard that tip-toed around his plump pink lips. His chocolate brown eyes shone compassion down to Trump’s squinty blue ones, and his olive skin creased so delicately when he spoke his name; “Donald?”

“N-no…there’s no way you’re Jesus Christ, nuh-uh, no way,” Trump stuttered, scooting his chair away. “Is this some kind of lame practical joke? Well it ain’t funny guys! This is my religion you’re messing with, these are the core values of ‘Murica so if you’re tryna make a joke out of them you’re making a joke out of the land of the brave!”

“Mr Donald Trump!”

He squealed in fright.

“Mr Trump, please listen,” the mysterious man said to him. “I am Jesus Christ, Son of God, and I have been sent here to help you become a better man for the sake of humanity.”

“H-how do I know you’re not just some terrorist come to assassinate me ‘cause I’m so important to the US and stuff?” Donald Trump asked worriedly, “I don’t know about you but in my high school, in MY high school we were taught that Jesus was white. I dunno folks, sue me, that’s what we were told. Jesus is white, so if I’m suddenly being told different in this day and age we oughta be suspicious, am I right? I mean you’re dark enough to be one of them suicide bombers is all I’m saying. Just sayin. And I’ll tell you another thing; the Jesus I know, wouldn’t be wearing a faggot dress, no way, Jesus is an American hero, he’s cooler than that.”

“Donald, this is a white robe, It’s literally what I’m shown to wear even in your spit-covered elementary school Bibles. And anyway, all men are the same underneath the pigmentation of skin,” the man informed with a trace of pity. “Do you really believe that when the Son of God was born in the Middle East to an olive-skinned virgin that he would appear as white as the snow on the other side of the globe?”

“Um, yes?” Trump replied in confusion. “White is, like, the default race for everything.”

“Well maybe that is one of the things I can hope to change while here.”

His voice was the type to command the attention of a room, and Donald liked that; usually his was the loudest voice in the boardroom, but not today. Something strange was stirring inside him, and even though he wasn’t sure whether to trust this feeling, Donald Trump never ignored the call of his penis and he’d be damned if he doubted it now.  
Donald took a step closer and slipped one arm around His waist, supporting the elegant arch in his holy back.

“M-Mr Trump!” Jesus exclaimed as Donald Trump’s other hand plunged downwards and began to fondle his heavenly business area through the thin robe. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Grabbin’ dat pussy,” he grunted in reply. “Just grabbin’ it.”

Jesus winced as Trump rubbed the tip of his dick and slowly lowered him down to the floor.

“This is wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Jesus whispered in weak protest.

“Shh…” The President soothed as he placed a large leg either side of Jesus’ narrow body and started to drag his white frock up to his hips.

“I was sent here to change you, because the last time we let someone with your views do what he wanted…ah!” His own yelp interrupted Him as Trump ferociously grabbed the Lord’s hard dick and started rubbing it up and down. “….L-lots of innocent people died. So I have to ch-change things!”

“I think you already have changed me,” Donald answered in his sexy southern drawl, before grazing his lips on the head of the Son of God’s dick.  
His lips parted and took in the holy cock, triggering a reaction from its recipient; Jesus cried out and sprang his chest upwards. With a swift motion he clasped Donald Trump’s chubby cheeks and pulled him into a hot God-President snog. Their tongues overlapped and Donald rubbed his nipples in delight; he had never felt so much pleasure, but all of a sudden he remembered something. He stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Jesus panted, breaking away from his partner’s eyelid-looking lips.

“I….I’m a married man,” Donald sighed, a hand to his head as he fought the demons in his mind. “And I’m the President, and the 2003 Hotwheels champion, what are people gonna say? I can’t risk my rep now, it’s too dangerous.”

“Well…my Father said ‘you shall not commit adultery’,” Jesus whispered sorrowfully. But then he smiled. “But I say ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’. And I want you inside me, Mr Trump. And as Jesus H Fucking Christ I say that it is your Christian duty to fulfil that request, and I will do the same.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Trump cried, his emotions spilling over as he clasped Jesus close to his chest. “Stay with me.”

“Of course, my child.”

 

***

 

The next day, Trump was working on some crosswords when the cleaner walked into his office as usual.

“Oh! Cabbage! I’m so sorry, sweetie,” he said with sympathetic alarm. He reached over to his coffee and prodded it off the edge of his desk, its dark contents spilling out onto the green carpet. “Totally slipped my mind.”

The woman sighed and walked over to the new stain with her cleaning equipment.

*FWUP*

“What was that?” she asked, looking around.

“That? Oh, nothing!” Trump returned quickly. “Just me pursing my lips. Crosswords make me thirsty.”

“But…You had a coffee.”

“Oh don’t be silly sweetheart, I wasn’t going to take that away from you, that’s your treat.” He answered with a smile and twitched with strange pleasure.  
Leticia furrowed her brow and turned back to the coffee stain, spraying cleaning fluid onto her cloth.

The President smirked and looked down to see Jesus crouched between his naked legs under the desk. Trump put a finger to his lips and grabbed the back of Christ’s hair to push his mouth down again. Man, would he have to teach Jesus a thing or two about quiet sucking.


End file.
